The Bet
by Jekkal
Summary: Two soldiers gamble their freedom. Now with Second Chapter
1. The Bet

BOOM!

I ran.

A dracon cannon had hit the front ranks of our little band, so I ran. Maybe for somewhere safe... safe from the cannons, at least. 

I know an Andalite soldier is supposed to be brave and fierce and noble and righteous and all of those heroic traits that supposedly make the opposite sex swoon for you.

What good's sex appeal if you get killed?

I never _did_ buy into the idea of sacrifice. I'm a war buff. Mostly about the Southern revolution. Now, sure, when you're picking up the information from a hologram, all of the stuff they idea sounds wonderful.

Of course, I was also into the psychological side of the wars. The Southern Revolution was much less cut-and-dry than you might think. Andalites up in arms against one another, just for the sake of money and taxes. Most of the Higher Class Andalites were beheadeded in percentages, but in numbers, more of the Lower Class Andalites were killed. Some for no more then to satisfy the crowd's incessant bloodlust. Like a sacrifice to an ancient god. That was 2000 years ago.

So why do I feel like some temple sacrifice now?

BOOM!

There! A crack in the ground! Off to the side, and hidden from Yeerk eyes by a small pile of the wounded dead. I jumped in.

Ahh!

Crack!

Ow! I cursed to myself as I felt my right foreleg, snapped in two. That did it. I was stuck here, with no way out except morphing. 

WHA-KRACK!

I heard the cry of a Hork-Bajir Controller land in the crevice as well. It sounded like he had broken something, too. I stood still, hoping the fall knocked him out. 

He slowly turned his head towards me. 

"Ahh!"

Ahh! I tried to leap back, but found myself unable to. I landed on my rear. 

The Yeerk drew his dracon beam. I quickly pulled out my shredder.

"Argh..." He winced as he clutched his arm. that must have been what he broke. I trained the shredder, readied, and—

Click.

I looked at my weapon in curiousity. Great. The focusing crystal was broken in the fall, too. I was as unarmed as he was— my tail slipped under some rocks when I leaped back, and now was stuck. He obviously couldn't attack, either, with his broken limbs.

Standoff, I realized. I began to look around the crevice. It was actually quite peaceful in here, away from the battle raging only a few yards away. Why are you still trying to fight?

"I'm a Yeerk and you're not."

Sounds stupid.

He looked up, just now realizing his surroundings. "Now it does." He smirked at me slightly. "So now what do we do?"

We wait. I said. I cannot climb up the steep wall, and you cannot either with that arm in the condition it is. We wait for either one of your soldiers or mine to come here and find us.

"Yes." He lied down, propping up his arm. "So, that's it? Just wait?"

Well... care to make a wager?

"A bet?" He sat up. "What would you even gamble with? And on what?"

On this battle. I smiled. We let them fight up there, and when the battle is over, whichever side wins gets the other for a captive. If the Yeerks win, I'm your prisoner. If the Andalites win, you're mine.

"I don't like gambling." He replied quickly.

You rather gamble it out up there? Odds are you'll get killed. At least this way, the worst that can happen is you get captured. I jeered at him. Don't have faith in your own regiment?

"Do you?"

A few of the soldiers, no. But I have to have faith in them. I would not be with them if I did not, now would I?

"I suppose." He looked at me, and then reached his one good arm out to shake mine. "Deal."

* * *

That bet is the one that cost me my freedom. Do I regret it? No. The Legends want you to believe that things always work out for the best. I don't know if this would apply, but maybe it does. Maybe... a few years from now... it will all work into whatever master plan is set...

I move forward, bound in energy ropes, hooves clanking against cold steel. The Hork-Bajir host whose Yeerk I bet against is waving at me from the cages, a grin on his face. He is free, for now. No doubt he will be passed onto another Yeerk.

I lean down, trying to remain passive, even as I know my new 'master' is penetrating. I try to remain optimistic about it... After all, It wasn't as though I was being passed onto one of Visser Three's assistants, or even a sub-visser. I knew who was going to control me.

Best bet I ever made, Joran. He said to me. Somehow, I knew I'd penetrated one shell of a soldier. Maybe I could do it again.

Same to you, Tares. I smile back at him.

* * *

This is our tale. This is our fight. This is our destiny.  
Joran-Kalles-Orena/Tares 269


	2. The Argument

Reep-reep-reep! Reep-reep-reep!

I groaned at the speaker in the wall which woke me up. Despite the fact that I was now the second Andalite-controller in the Empire, my chambers were still unfurnished. I was feeding my host . . . Joran . . . through a supply of emergency rations that were barely edible, even when dissolved.

This is terrible! Joran hissed. He had every right to— even though I didn't mistreat him and he didn't try to embarass me in front of other officers, he was starving. The rations were of poor quality for any species, let alone an Andalite. I thought Andalite-Controllers were respected in the Empire!

Considering the only example you have to go on is a Visser — who, I might add, has a rank much higher than it should be— you cannot assume anything. I explained. Besides, some of this is payback. My superior, Sub-Visser Nine, wanted you for his host instead.

Typical politics— same for all species, I suppose. He spoke as he rubbed some of the ration into his right front hoof. How did you convince him to let you keep me?

I sighed. You really want to know?

* * *

"I have the final say in the distribution of all captured property, Tares 269!" Sub-Visser Nine hissed at me. She was a Hork-Bajir, like myself, but at least her shooting arm wasn't broken.

I tried to plead with her. "But the bet I made with—"

"What bet?" She glared, turning my host's green blood cold.

"I - I didn't exactly capture Joran . . . the Andalite . . . single-handedly. We were trapped in that ditch you found us in, and none of the other soldiers bothered to look for us until after the battle was over."

"So?"

"So . . . we made a bet. We would wait until the battle was over. Whichever side had won the land where the ditch was, the loser would become their prisoner. If the Andalites had won, I would most likely be in some pathetic excuse for a Kandrona pool by now."

"A nice story, if a little unreasonable." Sub-visser Nine glared. "what does that have do you with you gaining the Andalite for a host body?"

I tried to explain my rather weak reasoning.. "He said that if the Yeerks won, he would be my prisoner. _My_ prisoner. Not ours. Mine. Therefore, I have the right to decide what happens to the Andalite. Do with the rest of the captured property what you will, but the Andalite is mine."

"You are my subordinate, Tares!" She hissed. "You answer to me. Yes, you do have the right to decide what happens to the Andalite. However, I order you to turn over that decision to me."

"I refuse!" My response drew a gasp from the growing audience outside of the room. "You are not allowed to order me to do anything that would be a violation of my rights."

She growled. "I can violate your rights MYSELF!" With that, she pounced on me, rolling the two of us into a wall. Fortunately for me, female Hork-Bajir have fewer blades, so I could easily clash mine with hers and neutralize both of us without getting hurt.

However, being a male Hork-Bajir with vulernable gonads was not an advantage at all. By the time the acting Captain, Visser Twenty-Nine, showed up to break the fight, the two of us were still breathing smoke down each other's back. "WHAT IN THE NAMES OF THE COUNCIL happened here?"

"I can explain!" I replied.

"Surely by now you've heard of the Andalite prisoner we caught, correct?" Sub-visser Nine spoke. "This fool here says its his!"

He looked at me with a derisive look on his face. "Is it?"

* * *

" . . . That's the entire story, Visser." I explained it all to him. I didn't even bother to call Joran 'the Andalite'— it wouldn't have helped. 

"As if your word meant anything!" Sub-Visser Nine hissed. "As I said before, I have the final say in all captured property!"

Visser Twenty-Nine glanced down at her. "Assuming that his story is the truth, the Andalite is his to decide for."

"WHAT?!" She snarled. "It's not his Andalite! The Andalite can't say that he's Tares's prisoner!"

"And neither can you." The visser spoke, calmly and rationally. "The Andalite's word is worthless in this decision, since he is a prisoner of the Yeerk Empire."

"Then it IS mine!" She grinned a toothy Hork-bajir grin, almost like that of a Taxxon's grin as far as her eyes were concerned.

"It is not your prisoner to do as you please with, either. You are in charge of all captured property, that much is true." He continued. "However, the Andalite was not captured— he surrendered. Although the notion of a surrendered Andalite is indeed very unusual, Tares has the Right of Salvage to the prisoner." The Visser finished his verdict. "Tares, have you decided what you wish to do with the Andalite?"

"I was hoping to make him my host, Visser." I smiled.

He nodded. "Very well. He is yours— I will find a new Yeerk to occupy your old Host within one feeding cycle. You may go now, but be at the pool by 0900. The transfer will be made then."

"Thank you, Visser." With that, I walked out of the room, leaving Visser Twenty-Nine to deal with the angry sub-visser.

* * *

So the only reason I am not some puppet to a greedy sub-visser is because I surrendered instead of being captured? Joran asked.

I just said that. I reminded him. Yes, that is the only reason why. And with you, I should have been due for a massive promotion. Because only Sub-Visser Nine can promote me at my current rank, however, I'm stuck being a lowly foot-soldier who just happens to have an Andalite body. I finished off the last of the ration. 

Joran immediately began thinking. I just relaxed in his head . . . the Andalite mind is truly complex, and to feel all those synapses ALIVE . . . a rush incomparable to any other experience. I blinked when he came up with an excellent idea.

A truly excellent, marvelous idea.

If we are not a sub-visser, then no one knows about us or cares . . .

* * *

This is our tale. This is our fight. This is our destiny.  
Joran-Kalles-Orena/Tares 269


End file.
